


Bright Lights, Big City, Blind Date

by hollyand



Series: Bright Lights, Big City, Blind Date [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - British, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blind Date, Fic Exchange, Fluff, London, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8438602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyand/pseuds/hollyand
Summary: Modern-day London!AU. Garrett Hawke is a successful businessman who has it all… all except a man in his life. Until Bethany sets him up on a blind date with Fenris. He thought he’d never see Fenris again after the date. He was wrong. Written for the DA Fic Swap Challenge on Tumblr.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A_Writing_Pen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Writing_Pen/gifts).



> Hope you like it! I wanted to make this longer than it turned out to be, but unfortunately I've been really snowed with work deadlines and other commitments in recent weeks, and that's not set to slow down this month either :-( And of course it had to be an AU for this pairing! So... this was waaaaaaay shorter than I wanted, but I hope you enjoy it anyway :-)

Night was falling, and the city below glittered to life. Garrett Hawke sighed as he looked out of the window over London, watching the last of the fiery orange sunset glowing in the west while the lights at street level flickered on, scattering pinpricks of light and colour over the blackening ground. Glass buildings crowded in the city’s heart illuminated with the lights of the offices within, while the traffic could barely be seen from the tall building Hawke himself was in, save for moving dots of light. The River Thames snaked thick and dark through the middle of it all, itself lined with yellow street lights and interrupted by rail and road bridges from one bank to the other.

His date was late, and Hawke was worried he wouldn’t show up at all. Here he was, sitting at the table of this expensive fancy restaurant, watching the city from on high and wondering if this blind date Bethany had set him up on was one of the tiny dots bustling around below.

Bethany had decided he needed to get over his ex by now. And had found him what she said was ‘the perfect man’. Which was why Hawke was here in the first place.

Well. The perfect man wouldn’t stand him up. Hawke was sure of that.

Someone cleared their throat, and Hawke, startled, looked up at a shock of white hair and deep green eyes framed by thick black eyebrows in a handsome, but guarded, face.

‘You are Garrett Hawke?’

‘I am,’ Hawke replied, stunned at the man’s sudden presence, and even more stunned at the deep voice that emerged from the slender, almost delicate-looking man in front of him; a man that was wearing a suit that was as dark as his eyebrows and which—Hawke belatedly noticed—fit him very, very well.

‘Fenris,’ the white-haired stranger introduced himself.

‘Ah,’ Hawke said. ‘I mean—sorry, where are my manners?—lovely to meet you.’

The man—Fenris—inclined his head ever so slightly, and sat down. Hawke cringed inwardly; he should have stood up to greet his date. Maybe even shaken hands. Or something. Anything other than gaping at him like an idiot.

‘I apologise for my lateness,’ Fenris rumbled, folding his napkin into his lap. ‘I took a taxi from elsewhere in the city.’

‘Well, that’s rush hour traffic for you,’ Hawke answered; the other man’s gaze was fixed on him so earnestly and unblinkingly he found it unnerving. ‘No need to worry. I was about to order some wine, actually. White or red?’

Fenris looked up at him through his heavy white fringe of hair, green eyes smouldering so intensely that Hawke gulped.

‘Red.’

Hawke loosened his tie. It had suddenly got very hot in here.

***

‘I’m sure it didn’t go as badly as you think, Brother.’

‘Bethany, it could not have gone any worse. I was a gibbering wreck all evening. To top it all off, I spilled gravy all down my shirt because I was so nervous.’

Bethany arched an eyebrow. ‘How on earth did you manage that?’

‘I ordered the steak,’ Hawke said, as if that explained everything. ‘Where are we going anyway? Why are we walking through a particularly run-down and dilapidated part of the East End?’

‘I promised Carver I’d meet him after work,’ Bethany answered with a shrug. ‘This is the gym he’s working at tonight.’

‘Oh,’ Hawke said.

Carver was Bethany’s twin, and couldn’t have been more different from his sister—or from Hawke. Where Hawke and Bethany tended to prefer a more cerebral, tactful approach to their lives, Carver preferred to let his fists do the talking. It surprised absolutely no-one that Carver had decided to become a boxer.

Hawke was only relieved that Carver had decided to teach his chosen sport after a brief semi-professional career. Watching his little brother getting beaten black and blue and bleeding in a bare-knuckle cage fight—even though he won more often than not—was never something that sat well with Hawke.

At least the gym they were going to looked considerably more swish than the abandoned buildings outside. Bethany pushed open the glass door, nodded at the receptionist, and went straight to the martial arts studio. As if on cue, Carver exited the studio when they arrived, sweating and topless, white towel slung casually around his neck, damp T-shirt in his hands. His sister rolled her eyes as if to say _show-off_ at the sight of him.

‘Hello, Brother,’ Carver said in his usual disgruntled tone, ignoring his twin. ‘Bethany didn’t say she was bringing _you_ along.’

Hawke was about to retort, when the door of the studio swung open, and he found himself face-to-face with a very shirtless, very much glistening-with-sweat Fenris.

‘Fenris? What are you doing here?’ Hawke blurted out before he could stop himself, wincing inwardly when he realised what he’d said.

Fenris looked directly at Hawke, and Hawke could feel a shiver up his spine at those smouldering green eyes on him again. ‘I train here.’

His suit had belied his figure; Fenris may have been slender, but he was packed with hard, sculpted muscle, nowhere near as delicate as Hawke had thought him a few nights prior. White tattoos swirled gracefully over his body; Hawke had seen a glimpse of them on his chin and neck on their date, but now Hawke could see that they went all the way down his chest and torso, into his workout trousers, as well as branching out onto his arms, making the most mesmerising patterns…

Bethany cleared her throat, and it was only when Hawke dragged his gaze away from Fenris’s body he realised he’d been ogling. Bethany was smirking and hiding it with her hand, Carver was scowling and crossing his arms, and Hawke was now blushing like a schoolgirl.

‘Come on, Carver,’ Bethany sang, grabbing her twin’s elbow and attempting to pull him towards the changing rooms. ‘Get your clothes on and we’ll get something to eat. Garrett can catch up with his… new friend.’

‘New friend?’ Hawke could hear Carver hissing at her as the twins walked away. ‘Bethany, have you been trying to set him up with _one of my clients_?’

‘So,’ Hawke started; Fenris continued to stand there, broody gaze on him, dripping with sweat. ‘You train with Carver?’

‘Indeed.’

Hawke shifted uneasily. This was going worse than their date had—which had been incredibly infuriating, because Hawke believed he’d never found someone more attractive than he found Fenris. Not even the ex who’d ripped his heart out of his chest and crushed it most painfully. Hawke was quite sure Fenris was capable of doing the same, if not worse, if ever they dated and broke up; and the thought scared him.

For now, though, Fenris remained frustratingly taciturn. Hawke had gabbled all evening on their blind date, Fenris had hardly spoken, and Hawke had been surprised Fenris had agreed to swap numbers afterwards. He assumed Fenris had only agreed out of politeness.

That was two days ago.

‘Carver is my younger brother,’ Hawke explained. ‘I didn’t know he taught you.’

‘He does not,’ Fenris corrected him, and Hawke felt stupid again. ‘We were sparring. I trained elsewhere. Carver was recommended to me when I moved to the city. I sought him out, as a way of honing and practising my skills.’

‘Ah,’ Hawke said. ‘And… how do you know Bethany?’

Fenris looked almost surprised at Hawke’s question. ‘Through Carver.’

‘Of course,’ Hawke agreed, feeling like an idiot once more. His confident man-about-town persona had crumbled quite considerably over these past two days, and he was sure Fenris would never believe that Hawke was capable of running the successful business he prided himself on.

‘I should get some clothes on,’ Fenris said, his voice deep and dark and full of something Hawke couldn’t quite name; and as the man strode away Hawke decided there and then that he needed a drink if only his legs could carry him to the nearest pub before giving way.

***

A hand banged down on the bar in front of where Hawke was perched on a bar-stool; and Hawke’s eyes travelled from the man’s hand to his body. White tattoos ran up his wrist, up his arm, and…

‘Fenris.’ Hawke was genuinely surprised; he hadn’t expected to see the man again that evening. ‘What—what brings you here?’

Fenris didn’t answer straight away. His green eyes gleamed in the pub’s dim light; the bar was thankfully quite empty, and Hawke couldn’t help staring at him, open-mouthed in wonder.

‘I have been thinking of you,’ Fenris began; and to Hawke’s surprise, he actually seemed agitated. ‘In fact, I have been able to think of little else.’ The white-haired man fixed him with a gaze full of heat, and Hawke felt very glad he wasn’t wearing his tie or suit tonight. ‘Command me to go, and I shall.’

Fenris was standing over him, and this close Hawke could see the desire and vulnerability written all over his face. He hadn’t thought the man had seemed so affected on their blind date, or indeed when he met Hawke shirtless at the gym some minutes earlier; but it seemed that perhaps Hawke had had more of an effect on him after all.

(And that was definitely a good thing.)

‘No need,’ Hawke heard himself say, as he stood up.

Fenris looked hesitant, for just a split second, and the next thing Hawke knew Fenris was in his arms, hungry lips on his, pushing Hawke up against the bar with a slam so hard that Hawke grunted. His hands roamed all over Hawke’s body, his own body pressed hard against and into Hawke as they deepened the kiss—and Hawke didn’t hold back, gave him everything he had, panting and moaning and thirsty for more until he spun round and pushed Fenris up against the bar.

‘Perhaps… we should move on,’ Fenris murmured, as they finally broke apart.

‘Agreed,’ Hawke panted. ‘I think the barman might soon want us to leave.’

Fenris merely chuckled, and leaned in to kiss Hawke again.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello at [hollyand-writes.tumblr.com](http://hollyand-writes.tumblr.com)!


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